


What Are Little Girls Made of, Made of?

by Siobhan_Schuyler



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-05
Updated: 2007-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhan_Schuyler/pseuds/Siobhan_Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's out, which is a fucking relief, and Gerard has been clean for a whole week when he manages to stop pacing long enough to ask Bobbie to join them permanently. Bobbie's face remains carefully blank when she nods, the sharp ends of her hair swinging around her jaw. She's wearing a pirate shirt, hobo gloves, and these fucking ridiculous pants, cutting her leg off funny mid-calf. Frank stares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are Little Girls Made of, Made of?

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the beginning of the Revenge era. A little bit o' always-been-a-girl!Bob.

Frank's in fucking trouble.

Matt's out, which is a fucking relief, and Gerard has been clean for a whole week when he manages to stop pacing long enough to ask Bobbie to join them permanently. Bobbie's face remains carefully blank when she nods, the sharp ends of her hair swinging around her jaw. She's wearing a pirate shirt, hobo gloves, and these fucking ridiculous pants, cutting her leg off funny mid-calf. Frank stares.

"I don't think it's such a good idea," Frank whines at Gerard later, freezing his ass off watching him smoke outside the Tic Toc. They're back home, and there's a short stack of silver dollars waiting for him inside the diner. Gerard crushes his cigarette under the heel of his boot and shakes another one out of his pack. Frank's fists curl up tight in his coat pockets. "Having a girl in the band, I mean. It makes us one of _those_ bands."

"The kind of bands with girls in them?" Gerard asks mildly, and Frank kinda resents how philosophical Gerard suddenly is about everything now that he's not wasted all the time. Fuck.

"Yes," Frank sulks, and squints at the traffic rushing past on Route 3. He's being a dick and he knows it. Gerard doesn't have to point it out so often, though.

"You're being a dick," Gerard says, eyes at half-mast and sucking on his cigarette like he doesn't have a cobb salad waiting for him at their table, between Frank's pancakes and Ray's gross Meat Lover's Platter. "You're just being pissy about Bobbie because you want to hit that so hard and Jamia won't let you."

"Well." Frank's eyelid twitches. He thumbs the ring around his finger, inside his pocket. The metal is a few degrees cooler than his skin, because they're outside and it's fucking March in Jersey. "Yeah," he finishes miserably.

Then Gerard is laughing, this high, raspy, obnoxious duck sound that's only slightly less ridiculous than Mikey's freaky bray. Frank swears Gerard's about to slap his fucking knee in glee. Frank glares. "Bobbie's not into dick, you asshole!" Gerard exclaims, and you can actually hear the punctuation at the end of it. "I'd watch out for Jamia, though," he adds more seriously, earnest in that way that's almost always genuine, when Frank stares at him, horrified. "I hear she's just Bobbie's type."

Frank's dick stiffens in his shorts and he groans, collapsing to the curb. The fact that he just popped a boner is the only reason he doesn't kick Gerard right in the fucking shin when Gerard looks up at the sky thoughtfully and says:

"You know she took Greta from The Hush Sound to her prom? That's _hot._ "


End file.
